


Fire and Maneuver

by Bright_Elen



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Bad Guys Made Them Do It, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hand Jobs, Humans Are Weird, Kissing, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Noncon is for the sex pollen, POV Garrus Vakarian, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Tentacle Dick, There's no noncon between partners, Vaginal Sex, Xenophilia, also normal-ish dick, as far as I'm concerned anyway, did I mention turians have long tongues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24710569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bright_Elen/pseuds/Bright_Elen
Summary: A terrorist group wants our crew to hurt each other for them, so they triggered Garrus's heat. Joke's on them; Garrus just needs some alone time and he'll be fine.Well, he will if Shepard would just stop doing inadvisable things like looking at and touching him.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 16
Kudos: 206
Collections: Heat Fic Summer 2020





	Fire and Maneuver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noun/gifts).



> "Fire and movement, or fire and maneuver, is the basic modern military low-level unit tactic used to maneuver on the battlefield in the presence of the enemy, especially when under fire. It involves heavy use of all available cover, and highly-coordinated exchanges of rapid movement by some elements of the squad or platoon while other elements cover this movement with suppression fire. It is used both to advance on enemy positions as part of an attack, or withdrawal from current positions under attack by the enemy." --[wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fire_and_movement)
> 
> Not really connected to any plot events/timeline from canon, but that's not what we're here for, now is it? ;)
> 
> Thanks to my beta and brainstormer, [SassySnowperson](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DramaticEntrance/pseuds/SassySnowperson). You rock. <3

Shepard took point, like she always did, Garrus covering her. Together they made the initial sweep of the apartment. When no immediate threats presented themselves, they switched to recon mode. It took a while, checking all the surfaces, moving furniture, opening storage spaces. In the first three rooms, there was nothing.

"This is a waste of time," Shepard huffed.

"Won't know that until we're done." Garrus was scanning a display shelf crammed full of holodisks. "Though I'm inclined to agree, unless Earth First hid their secrets in the Deluxe Collector's Edition of the entire  _ Blasto  _ oeuvre."

Garrus was rewarded when Shepard's annoyance broke into an amused snort. Smiling to himself, Garrus swept his scanners over the media collection just in case, watching his HUD for anything amiss.

A moment later, on the shelf against the back wall, he found something: a motion detector, stuck between another two holodisks, where there didn't need to be one. Nothing had happened yet because it was set back between the disks to narrow its scanning range. The range Shepard was about to step right into.

Time slowed down as Garrus opened his mouth and turned, but he was too late. The detector flashed red, there was a click from above, Shepard cursed, and something dropped out of the ceiling. Garrus dove for Shepard, both of them grunting as he pushed her to the floor, his back between her and the grenade. 

There was no explosion, but rather a hiss. A chemical or bioweapon, then, but Garrus realized this too late and caught a lungful of an overpowering odor. He coughed and cursed, braced himself for pain, tried to get up so they could get the fuck out of there. Shepard's legs were tangled with his, and she gulped air, also breathing in the haze; in making her less of a target he'd knocked the wind out of her.

That could have gone better. Mostly he was glad it hadn't gone a lot worse.

Seconds passed, and there was still no pain. Garrus raised his head and shifted, trying to get his legs under him. 

It brought his attention to the fact that he was effectively lying on Shepard. She was solid beneath him, but her panting expanded her chest far more than a turian's could, and even through the layers of armor he could feel her warmth. With their bodies pressed together he had an excellent view of her face and throat, all those parts of her that she never seemed worried about covering despite their relative vulnerability, and he was struck with the almost overpowering urge to drag his tongue down her jawline to her jugular and drink in what he imagined would be the salt-sweet taste of her skin.

He shook his head. Now was not the time. But regardless of the danger or the mission, he still couldn't quite bring himself to get off of her. He was imagining more, now: what her softness would feel like without the armor between them; what her voice would be like calling out in pleasure; if she would use her legs during sex half as well as she did while sparring. He hadn't been this overwhelmed with lust since his last unmedicated heat.

Oh. 

"Fuck." He'd heard about people trying to weaponize turian biology, but he'd thought it was just lurid conspiracy theories. Apparently someone had made a breakthrough.

"Garrus? You okay?"

Oh, gods, he could  _ feel  _ her voice, just faintly through his chest plating, and he wanted more of it, wanted to pry open her armor and— 

In a monumental effort, he rolled off of her and away, hauling himself to sitting.

"I've been compromised," he panted, heart rate already elevated. "You'll need to finish this mission without me." 

She was immediately at his side again, a hand on his arm; the contact, even through his armor, was as compelling as a sip of water after a day of thirst. "I don't feel anything. Is it poisonous to turians?"

"You could say that." He tried not to laugh hysterically. 

"Stop being cagey," she snapped. "What's your status?" 

He was going to need a few days to himself. Privacy. Maybe Tali could pick up some toys and lube to make it easier. 

"What is your  _ status _ , Vakarian?" Her bark didn't succeed in concealing her alarm.

"It's not poison, and I'm not dying," he managed, though he was already too warm. "It was a pheromone bomb." 

Shepard's brow knit in confusion, then her eyes widened. "Oh." Apparently she did know some basic turian biology. "Okay. Okay, you're on suppressants, right? Do you have some on the  _ Normandy _ ? Or should I have Mordin or Chakwas synthesize a batch?"

Garrus chuckled weakly. "That's not how they work. Once a heat's begun, you can't do anything but ride it out." He wondered what it would be like, with a human. Shepard's biology wouldn't respond to his own pheromones, so would she lose interest after the first few orgasms? She'd be more lucid than a turian; the idea was simultaneously comforting (at least someone would have half-decent situational awareness) and mortifying (like being obnoxiously drunk with a sober person). 

Shepard sighed in frustration. "Why the fuck would a terrorist group do this?"

"Twisted bastards like these, they probably want me to rape you." If the idea hadn't been laughable, it would have made him sick. "I just need a couple days. I'll be fine." He tried to focus on the kinds of toys he would ask for. A masturbation sleeve, plenty of lube, maybe something that vibrated; maybe a VR setup, that could be useful, especially if he could find a turian woman in a heat of her own. Or maybe he'd take some leave and go find one in person.

The thought wasn't as enticing as it used to be.

"I've heard it's painful without a partner." Shepard was frowning.

He shrugged, though that made him even more aware of her hand on his arm. "They can be, yes." He did not elaborate that the longer they were put off, the more intense they tended to be, nor the pertinent fact that Garrus hadn't had a full heat since he began training to become a Specter. 

He pushed himself to his feet. His body temperature was increasing far too quickly. Maybe he should use the apartment's bathroom, cool off, maybe rub one or two orgasms out to take the edge off. "You should call someone else to finish this mission. I'm useless right now."

"Don't be an idiot," Shepard said. "There's no reason for you to tough this out alone, Garrus." In a misguided attempt to show support, she put both hands on his shoulders.

His carapace practically hummed under her touch.

"Shepard," Garrus said, words ground out between his teeth, "it is incredibly difficult not to touch you right now," and there were, gods, so many ways he could touch her, "and I don't know how long I can keep it up, especially if you don't  _ let go of me _ ."

"You don't have to be self-sacrificing." She crossed her arms over her chest, which was good, because she was no longer touching him, and bad, because it was drawing his eyes to her shoulders and arms and the way she canted her hips.

"Have you slept with a Turian before? I haven't had any human partners. I could hurt you." All that skin.

Shepard scoffed. "Big talk from the guy I knocked down three times last week. Think I can't handle you?"

She had a point; their latest sparring session had been quite the match, with several crew making bets as they fought. He'd gotten in a hit that had split her lower lip, and she'd forced him to the edge of the mats more than once. After several long rounds of intense back-and-forth, it had ended with him on the floor, her knee pressed sharply into the soft part of his thorax, her blunt training knife to his throat. She'd stared him down with fire and triumph in her eyes, sweat running down her temple, blood on her lip, and she'd never been more beautiful. He had no doubt she could do it again. 

So maybe it wasn't her he was trying to protect. 

"Doesn't matter." He pushed past her, heading for the bathroom.

A frustrated hum behind him. "Look, you told me earlier you were interested. I don't understand why you'd put yourself through this when you don't have to. But if you changed your mind..." 

He stopped on the threshold, closing his eyes. "I haven't. I'm still very much interested. But I want to do the job right." 

"Oh, I'm a job now, am I?" Her tone had become teasing; her voice coming from right behind him. If he took half a step back, their bodies would be pressed together. 

He should step forward and close the door.

He didn't. Even as the heat was enough to make him sway in lightheadedness, he didn't. 

"Garrus." Shepard's voice was quiet, but the sound nevertheless went all the way through him. "I have your back."

If he gave in, she was going to see him as the pathetic, needy mess he always was in heat. She wouldn't want to deal with that once the moment had passed — nobody would, but especially not Commander Shepard. 

And yet, it was impossible to do anything other than turn around slowly to face her. Even knowing he was vastly reducing his chances for anything meaningful with her, he still couldn't stop himself from bringing his hands to her waist. From tugging her forward those last few inches. 

"Glad you're being sensible," she said, the curve of her lips completing the breakdown in his control, "or at least pretend—"

He dove into her arms, seeking contact, and nestled his tongue just under her ear, behind her jaw, and she lost whatever else she was going to say. She tasted of salt and heat and the blowback from her rifle, all of it spurring his blood faster, hotter, and he breathed her in deep. She was so soft. Against his chitin, she was almost uncannily soft, and that was all the more intoxicating for what a contrast it was to her personality. He spoke without meaning to, his voice already embarrassingly low and rough. "Shepard." 

She clutched at the back of his neck, her voice breathy but still amused. "Right for the throat, eh Archangel?" 

"I want to taste all of you," he found himself saying, "every last damn inch."

"Not bad for an opening move," she purred, and let go of him to reach for his armor. She'd seen him suit up so many times that she knew where all the catches and clasps were, but she couldn't quite get them to cooperate.

Garrus took over, hands still shaking with need but steady enough to work, keeping his mouth on her. Removing the upper armor gave him some relief from the heat, enough to concentrate on Shepard again, to lick along her jaw and into her mouth.

Shepard moaned, the sound humming through Garrus's entire body, and he surged forward, one hand in her hair, the other holding her against him, losing himself in her heat, in her short, thick tongue, in the unbelievable softness of her lips. He was aware of his cock trying to emerge from its sheath, pressing uncomfortably against his armor, but fixing that would involve letting go of Shepard.

So he didn't. He ran his tongue inside her lips, along her teeth, tasting and breathing her; she gave as good as she got, if not better, because human lips were  _ made  _ for kissing. 

With a pleased hum, Shepard tilted her head at a different angle, closed her mouth around his, and sucked on his tongue. The sensation was electricity down his spine and into his cock, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It drew a long, low moan out of him, and she rocked her hips against his, and then he was gasping and making a mess of his armor.

"Wow," Shepard said when he'd finished, pleased with herself. "Didn't realize I was that good." 

"I forgot," he panted into her hair, "that humans can suck," gods, he was glad just to be upright, "and that you do it for fun." 

Shepard laughed, the sound bubbling into Garrus's chest, as she stroked one hand down his fringe to his back. "It's going to be so much fun to suck you off." 

Garrus staggered one step to the side. "You might." Swallowed. Tried to push past the vivid speculation of what lips and suction would feel like on his cock. "You should see what you're working with before you say things like that." 

Shepard tossed her head. "Like that's ever stopped me."

Garrus laughed weakly, then began nuzzling at Shepard's throat, already burning up again. "Too many clothes."

"Agreed," she said, and then stroked both hands down his bare chest. He whined, arching into the touch, and she rubbed him all the way up and down again before coming back to his waist, working the clasps much easier this time. After they'd shucked his leg armor off in pieces, Shepard was peeling the under armor trousers off, and he'd stepped out of them before she got a good look at his cock.

She was on one knee, crouched like she was taking stock of the layout of an enemy base, that same concentration he knew so well from the moments before the shooting started. 

Well, her eyes were dark, too, and she was biting her lip in a way she never did on a mission. Garrus couldn't look at anything except the way her teeth pressed into flesh. 

"This looks pretty straightforward," she said, glancing between his eyes and his hardening cock, "but tell me more about these." 

She was pointing at his cerci, all six of which had unfurled. They responded to her, and she moved her hand back and forth, watching them follow. "Are you doing that?" 

"Not consciously."

"Are these going to grab me?" She sounded more intrigued than anything else, so that was good.

"They'll try, though without a set on you they won't be as successful." He considered. "Though that might not matter regarding your hands or—"

Or mouth. His cerci could cradle her face and wrap around her jaw and the back of her neck and— 

Fuck. He was leaking again, and his cerci were almost thrashing.

"Shepard," he said, voice straining. "I need—" 

"Yeah," she shook herself and stood up. Darkened eyes boring into his, she put one hand on his chest and leaned up to kiss him.

Her other hand moved towards his cock. His cerci wrapped around her wrist and pulled her closer, and she grinned into the kiss as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft. He moaned, pulling her tight against him, and he hadn't expected to enjoy feeling her armor all up and down his carapace but it made him even harder knowing that she could still wade into a fight.

Her hand was soft, of course, just like the rest of her. Her five fingers were strange in the best way, feeling almost, but not quite, like two turian hands on him. She stroked and squeezed, his pleasure and desire cresting over and over again like rolling waves, her movements guided by his cerci, pulling and pushing in time to show her how best to get him off.

"These are very helpful," she said, chuckling into his mouth, and then she twisted just so.

"Hng," Garrus agreed, and came again, pleasure multiplied by the sight of his fluid glistening on those capable hands and streaking her armor.

There was a feeling of vertigo, and then he was clinging to Shepard on the floor, both kneeling. 

So much for staying upright. "Sorry."

"Shut up," Shepard said fondly, pressing her mouth to his. 

He must be doing something right. He kissed her back, slowly, awash in her warmth and her scent and her touch. 

There was a gentle tug at his cerci as she let go of his cock. Garrus took a deep breath, relaxing his whole body, but the cerci didn't even loosen their grip. "Sorry." He reached down to pry them off of her and braced himself for pain.

Shepard batted his hands away. "Don't force anything if you don't have to. Take off my armor instead." She smiled. "Think you can handle that?"

"Mmm," he hummed in desire and relief both, mouth on her throat again, hands in her hair. That was soft, too, and oddly slippery, and moved in a fascinating way. But he didn't linger, instead putting himself to the task of undressing Shepard.

He successfully removed the armor from her left arm, and she rewarded him with a squeeze and pull of his cock. His hips reflexively thrust into her hand, but she held steady, and he bit back a moan of frustration.

"Think of it as incentive," she chuckled. 

"Can't get you off if you're in armor," he pointed out. "Can't remove armor if you distract me." 

She laughed, warm and rich. "Cool under five kinds of enemy fire, but my one little hand undoes you?"

It was like a bucket of water, instantly cooling him, wilting his cock, and sinking his stomach; a reminder of how she was going to either laugh or be disgusted when he really lost it. 

But he couldn't stop. Gods help him, he couldn't stop. At least he'd come back to himself enough to make quick work of the rest of Shepard's armor. When he was done separating the front and back plates from her limbs and torso, he unzipped her under armor from throat to navel and helped her wriggle out of the suit. They reached an impasse with her right sleeve, her hand still held fast in his cerci, but in the end they left it bunched around her lower arm. With them both sitting on the floor, it didn't matter much. 

Shepard was naked, and his warmth started to return. Garrus could see every inch of her corded muscle, scar tissue, and the fine hairs over most of her body. Skin, so much skin, and he was lapping at her throat again before he'd really finished looking.

"Garrus," Shepard sighed, her free hand roaming his carapace, neck, cowl, shoulders, chest, back. It spurred him on in his own explorations, laving his tongue down her neck, across her collar bones, down into the thicket of hair under her arm.

She gasped, her belly tightening with the echo of a laugh. "Oh wow, okay, that's much better than I would have thought."

"Human men aren't interested in this?" He made another circuit, her musk making him even harder, despite not having the right pheromones, and then licked a line to the inside of her elbow. 

"None I've slept with." 

"Idiots."

Shepard laughed and pumped his cock again, and he moaned. She stopped again after two more strokes, and Garrus returned to her torso, starting with the hollow of her throat and working his way down. He had to lie down halfway so he could circle her navel, and then she was leaning back against the door, hooking one of her knees over his shoulder, and adjusting so he could reach her vulva. 

He dragged his tongue down the thatch of hair and into the cleft of her labia, the scent of her arousal winding the desire in his belly tighter, the heat and wet of her on his tongue intoxicating. When he found her clit and experimentally massaged it with his tongue, Shepard moaned, thrust her hips into his face, and squeezed his cock again, and again, and then he was moaning, trying to keep the edges of his mandibles from her soft folds, and grinding up into her hand. 

"Fuck," she said, with feeling.

Garrus grinned. After a few more waves over her clit, he moved lower, drinking up her juices, aroused enough to feel high, and licked into her core. She contracted around him, and it was almost like the tongue sucking again, except for how she's started a litany of "yes yes yes" and "keep doing that" and "fuck" and "Garrus." Her hand was erratic, now, only on his cock anymore because of his cerci, and he concentrated on her, periodically pulling back out far enough to rub her clit with the middle of his tongue while the tip played with her folds, more than gratified at the "holy shit" that induced, and then she was shuddering all around him, her well-muscled thighs clenching around his head, her free hand tight on his cowl, a long, deep, satisfied moan in her throat.

He slowed down while she panted, lapped her folds clean, massaged her ass and caressed her stomach.

"Again?" she said after a while. Garrus had been waiting for that, and pushed deeper into her once again.

She came twice more before she patted his shoulder— the first time he'd gotten her to tap out in weeks, clearly he should have been doing this all along — and he pulled back. As soon as her breathing was under control, she jerked him off again, and then they were both panting in a tangled pile on the bathroom floor. At least she got her hand back, his cerci too weak to do anything but wave.

As soon as he had the strength, he crawled around to lie next to her, one hand slowly stroking her waist. She hummed contentedly, rolling towards him, and threw a leg over his knees. 

She was glistening with sweat, hair damp at the roots. The protective tenderness that Garrus had felt for a long time — far longer than he'd allowed himself to acknowledge — swelled up in his chest, and he cradled her to his chest, pressing a kiss into her hair. It might be the only chance he got.

Shepard drew an arm around him, pulling herself closer, and then made a soft sound of surprise when his cock, heavy and hard, pressed against her stomach. "Is that normal?"

"Yes. Faster than usual, but...pheromones."

"The orgasms are helping, right?"

"Yes." His temperature was rising again, as was the compulsion to taste her skin again. He didn't resist, though he did hold back from grinding his cock against her. "I can take care of the rest, if you're done."

"You're not getting rid of me that easy," she said, and rolled to sitting on top of him, hands braced on his upper arms, knees tight around his waist. "Now, are you going to show me what you've got?"

Growling, Garrus pushed upwards, twisting to roll them, putting Shepard on her back. She grinned up at him, rolled them again, and then he surged upwards into sitting, claimed her mouth again, and took her ass in both hands. She hummed into his mouth, arms going loosely over his shoulders.

Garrus's cock was throbbing insistently, almost painfully, and the coiled fire in him was nearly unbearable. He heaved upwards, taking Shepard with him, and then he was standing at the bathroom counter, sitting her on the edge of it, and hiking her legs up around his waist. His thumbs found her breasts, which he had only just remembered were erogenous zones for humans, and she hooked her ankles together and pulled him in.

His cerci found the creases of her hips, curled around her thighs the best they could, and then his cock was sinking into her, both of them moaning. The soft warmth of her body against his chest, the iron of her legs around his waist and her hands on his back, the incredible slick heat and tightness of her core, all of it finally wiped away the last bit of self-control he'd had. He grunted against her throat and pumped his hips into her, her body clinging to every ridge of his cock. 

His earlier worry about being too much for her evaporated like the mist it was; as powerful as his thrusts were, Shepard pulled him into her even harder. Her ass was barely on the counter, between her thighs and his hands on her hips.

"Fuck, yeah, yeah, christ, Garrus, yes," she hissed. He kept pushing into her sweet folds, the pressure around his cock making every molecule of his body sing. "Harder." 

He paused to get a better grip, and then obliged, slamming into her so hard he knew he wouldn't last. Shepard started working a hand between them, but as soon as he realized what she was reaching for, one of his cerci let her go to circle around her clit and squeeze. 

Shepard screamed. Not in all their years, all their fights, had he heard that sound rip from her lungs. Knowing it was in pleasure, pleasure  _ he  _ had given her, set him off almost harder than her body pulsing around him did. He spilled into her, riding the explosion of sensation and crushing her to his chest.

As he came down, limbs trembling, he very carefully set her down on the counter. Then, when she was stable, his legs decided he didn't really need them anymore and he collapsed, wedged between the wall and the cabinet. Above him, Shepard wavered at an angle, one hand on the counter, the other in the sink. 

"You okay?" he finally managed.

"I think you ruined me," Shepard replied, slowly rotating her ankles. "Cerci. Damn." 

He couldn't quite remember that bit of human slang, but she didn't sound upset. Not bad.

Shepard slid to her feet, only a minor tremble in her legs, and Garrus caught their commingled scents from the slick between her thighs, and no matter how satisfied he'd been a moment before, now his cock was filling out yet again, aching for her. There was something he'd been worried about, but it was gone, now. In fact, he couldn't really remember anything that wasn't Shepard or ways he could touch her. 

He reached for her, and their fingers entwined briefly as she settled to the floor. Then she was sliding down his legs, lying flat on her stomach, and his cerci were caressing her face.

"Strap in," she said, smirking, and opened her mouth.

Garrus swore. His last intelligible memory involved Shepard's lips stretched around his cock, popping slightly off his ridges as she pulled back, and his own voice echoing off the tile.

* * *

There were stars above him. He stared placidly for what felt like a long time before he realized it was a window. It was only half a heartbeat before he remembered he'd been drugged on the recon mission and realized he was on a bed underneath a window to the stars.

Shepard's bed. Damn. How long had it been?

He shifted, trying to find a clock readout or some other clue, but before he did, an arm tightened around his waist.

"If you need to go again, gimme a minute," Shepard murmured, her breath warm on his neck. "Wanna stretch. Get more lube." 

Garrus turned towards her. "No," he said, and it was true. Thank gods.

His relief died before he was finished sighing. The heat was over. He'd made a mess of them both, revealed to Shepard that he couldn't handle his own biology, and now he had to live with that.

"You rest." He studied her face, the feel of her arm, committing them to memory. Then he sat up before his resolve failed. "I'll clear out, give you some space." 

Her eyes snapped open. "Is that your way of saying you want to be alone?"

He paused, off-balance. "No, I just. I've imposed enough."

"Oh my god," Shepard huffed, and threw a leg and an arm over him, only the lassitude of sleep keeping it from being a wrestling hold. "Get it through that metallic carapace of yours that I want you here, okay?"

She looked tired, but entirely coherent. More so than several times she'd been exhausted and giving orders. He'd trusted her jugement then, and with good reason: none of those orders had turned out to be objectively bad calls, or even just decisions she regretted later. 

The knowledge — the certainty — that she still wanted him spread through Garrus, a tide of warmth that swept away the urge to hide. Without that, there was nothing to keep him from sinking back onto the mattress; no reason to fight the sex-fatigue or Shepard's gravity. 

Lying beside her, Garrus brushed a stray lock of hair from Shepard's face. "Okay." 


End file.
